


Despondent

by rotosalt (orphan_account)



Series: False God [2]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: M/M, angsty, real sad, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7826488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/rotosalt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh swears he finds himself in Tyler's sheets, more and more every time. He finds himself in the way he can feel fingernails against his scalp, can feel the fabric against his skin. </p><p>Then he loses himself in the aftermath when he's left to shower and scrub his transgressions off of his skin. </p><p> </p><p>(***this is a sequel to a previous work of mine called crestfallen. If you want to read that, then go ahead, but I don't think it's necessary to understand this one. Thanks, sending my love ♡♡***)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Despondent

**Author's Note:**

> To begin, this is a sequel to a previous work of mine, you do not have to have read it to understand this. If you'd like to read it however, it's called Crestfallen. 
> 
> Also, I do not, not not not, condone cheating. Seriously. I don't at all. Dont do it 
> 
> And I'm fully supportive and respectful of Ty and Jenna's marriage. (Jenna is my queen I swear I love her so much like ty watch out imma steal your girl kidding obviously)
> 
> But yeah. Thanks. ♡♡♡

There's the _snap, crackle, and pop_ of his heartbeat against his ribs. Loud, demanding, heavy. His chest aches. Tyler had left the seat next to his a while ago, fingernails bitten, hair a mess, dark bags beneath his eyes.

He's been sitting here ever since. The cold, clinical smell filling his nostrils, surrounding him. He almsot feels clean.

By the time Tyler comes out the sun had set. When Tyler had left he looked exactly like he was supposed to, he looked exactly like what he was. An expectant father. Now he looks the happiest he's ever seen.

"Josh, you wanna see the baby?"

He swallows. He almost says no. Instead he nods, eyes casted purposefully downward as he stands. Tyler leads him to the room. It smells less clinical in here. It smells like lavender and baby powder. There's still the lingering scent of antiseptic and band-aids, but it's masked slightly.

Jenna's smiling widely, cupping this tiny little thing in her arms. Josh smiles when he sees the baby, he looks just like Tyler. Tyler's wringing his hands nervously, leaning over to pick the baby up.

Josh holds the baby for five minutes. He spends the entire five holding back tears and whispering sweet things to a child that wasn't his own.

When he climbs into his bed that night he thinks about the last time he'd had to go to the hospital with Tyler and Jenna.

He remembers the way they'd both come out of the room crying, Tyler before Jenna. Tyler was bawling as Josh had wrapped his arms around him.

That was the second time they'd tried for a baby. That was the second time they'd had a miscarriage. The second time Tyler had stayed at Josh's house while Jenna visited her parents. The second time Tyler had curled up in his bed and cried into his chest.

The second time Tyler had begged Josh to kiss him. The second time he'd had those hands fisted in his sheets, the second time he'd had bite marks across his collarbones, all left from a man who walked away without a scratch.

He couldn't go home covered in red-purple bruises. He couldn't go home with scratch marks on his back and teeth marks on his shoulder.

But he could leave Josh to scrub his skin raw in the shower. He could leave Josh to shoulder all of the guilt. He could leave Josh emotionally drained, hanging by a thread.

Josh had never been one for hopeless romance. He'd never been one to hang onto something he knew couldn't happen or something ridiculous. But there he had been, skin red from the hot water and raw from the relentless scrubbing.

There was no way he'd ever be able to wash away everything he'd done, but he would try. He had tried.

Now, he goes home alone. The only hands fisted in his sheets are his own as he falls into an unbearably light sleep, brought back to harsh reality by the smallest of sounds.

After that everything just kind of passes. He remembers every day, they just feel less, _there_. They feel more like hours and minutes rather than the years and months that they actually were. Everything slows back down for a bit when he makes his way to Tyler's house.

He has to fly in from LA but it never registered to him that he had to fly in for the kid's fifth birthday. He's ushered inside when he gets there three days early.

Tyler's hand is at the small of his back, leading him into the living room. He can hear Jenna upstairs.

"Hey, man. What's been going on? It's been a while. You look...good."

Josh knows how he looks, knows how when he stares at the mirror he barely sees a shell of himself. Knows that his tan had faded and his skin had become ghostly pale, that his eyes were surrounded by dark bags, that they looked sunken in and bloodshot.

Josh knows that his hands have become softer, knows that you can see how frail they've become. He knows that his lips are chapped and his jeans are a little too loose.

He knows how he looks.

"Nothing really, Ty. How's it been going with you guys and the kid?"

He cracks a smile because he knows it'll make the tension set in Tyler's spine go away. Tyler smiles back and this time he doesn't look nervous, he doesn't look scared.

"Everything's good. He can read already. He's so smart, Josh. Wish you could've been here a little more. He really likes his Uncle Joshie."

This time when he smiles it feels more genuine. He can hear the little patter of his feet coming down the steps, can hear Jenna trailing behind him, telling him to be careful.

"Uncle Josh!"

Josh watches as he nearly trips over himself in an attempt to run into the living room. When the kid falls into his arms he lets out a light chuckle, tongue daring to shove itself between his teeth.

"Where's his other sock, love?"

Josh's head snaps up at that and Tyler notices, giving him an understanding look. He doesn't realize that he'd open his mouth to respond.

"He refuses to put it on, Ty."

That's when he really takes notice of Jenna. Jenna who's probably about six months pregnant and holding a sock in one hand.

"Hey, Josh! Didn't know you'd gotten here already. How'd that thing with that band go?"

It's at this point that he realizes he hasn't picked up a drumstick in about a year.

"Uh, it didn't work out."

She makes a noise of recognition before attempting to coax the kid into putting his other sock on. "Are you guys going somewhere?"

"No, Jenna's just taking him out to the playground so we can hang out a little. Got a lot of catching up to do, Jishwa."

That nickname strikes anxiety into his bones. It sounds like artillery shells hitting dirt, entire war songs made completely out of the sound of bullets ricocheting off of his ribcage. Battle scars and tears and sweat and blood.

Entire war songs made out of the screams of thousands of people. Thousands of people fighting for them, their allies, their enemies. Their war-torn amphitheaters and arena, full of veterans and active-duty service members alike.

And it all hits him like a ton of bricks and for a second he can smell the sweat in the air, feel the confetti stuck to his back.

But it fades, as all else has, as all else will.

"Yeah, I guess we do. Have fun kiddo, see ya Jenna."

He watches as she pulls as bag over her shoulder and walks out the front door. The house is silent again, apart from the low buzz of a basketball game on the TV in the background.

There's something he's learned since Tyler first began dating Jenna, once a cheater, always a cheater. Even now, with one kid and another on the way. With six years of marriage under his belt, and a suburban house and a suburban fence, and a suburban life. Even now, Tyler can't stop.

Tyler can thread his hands in Josh's hair and Tyler can press his sweaty body against Josh's. Tyler can grip his thighs so tight that there will surely be fingertip shaped bruises to match the ones on his chest. Tyler can run his tongue over chapped lips, can bite earlobes and scrape his teeth over Josh's jawline.

Tyler can watch as he withers away.

It's a sad thing to think about, honestly. Josh knows how much he's changed as a person since having met Tyler. Since having fallen in love with someone he knew he'd never have because Tyler was never made for someone like Josh.

Tyler was made for movie scenes and the all-american, cookie-cutter dream. He was made for white picket fences around a house where they barbecue in the backyard.

He wasn't made for Josh, and Josh knew that. But it hadn't stopped him from loving that cookie-cutter boy with his suburban life. They say that love can kill you, and Josh was slowly learning that they weren't lying.

Now he's sitting here with sweat dried onto his skin, chests heaving, eyes locked onyo the ceiling. Josh dares to look over at Tyler.

"What do you want from me, Tyler?"

He remains laying while Tyler sits up, leaning back on his hands.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He sighs and joins Tyler in sitting, his entire body exhausted as his shaking arms push him up.

" _What do you want from me?_ I'm so tired of this. Do you not realize how it makes me feel to always be the one you're sneaking around with? I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I'm done with this, Tyler. I'm so done with this. If you wanted me then you shouldn't have married her."

There's a moment of silence between the two.

"And, and you know what? You can't have two cakes and eat them- you can't have your cake- you understand what I'm saying. You can't have the both of us Tyler. Not anymore."

It takes four days fo him to give in. Just four. Because Tyler's hands are always on him, and Tyler's eyes are always boring holes into his skin, and Tyler's lips are always twisting into sweet words and Josh can't stand it.

Tyler hadn't made a single advance on him since he incident. His hands had been on him in an impossibly platonic manner, his eyes had bored holes into his skin when he was directing simple questions at him, his lips had formed sweet words aimed at Jenna and his kid.

Tyler hadn't made any advances on him and Josh had thought that's what he'd wanted. Four days.

Four days and he'd ended up with pleading eyes and shaking hands. Josh swears he finds himself in Tyler's sheets, more and more every time. He finds himself in the way he can feel fingernails against his scalp, can feel the fabric against his skin.

Then he loses himself in the aftermath when he's left to shower and scrub his transgressions off of his skin. This time they are his transgressions, because he knows that he asked for this. He _begged_ for this. He'd gotten on his knees and prayed to a false god for any scrap of attention, anything from the simple touch of the false god's tanned fingers to his wrist, to the false god's lips against his inner thigh.

And that false god had obliged him, with tanned fingers and lips alike.

He goes home after having stayed there for five days. After having found himself two times, and lost himself two. He can imagine if he'd his guilt tattooed to his skin that he would be covered in ink.

That you couldn't tell his eyebrows from the lettering, that the words would wrap around his entire body and suffocate him like a python.

But he gets home covered in guilt that eats away at his mind as an alternative to suffocation. And he washes it down the drain with too-hot water and excessive amounts of soap.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to apologize if there were a lot of mistakes or anything. And I'd like to apologize if you just in general disliked the fic. Sorry, my friends. 
> 
> Id really appreciate it if you could give any kind of feedback, it's been a while since I've written anything and I'd love to know what you thought. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading 
> 
> Bye
> 
> ♡♡♡♡


End file.
